Fool's Gold (3 page)

My eyes widened in shock.

“We have no choice. No witnesses.”

Jack snorted. “If we helped you, even if we helped you get the gold, what would stop you from just killing us all anyway?”

“Very important question. We won't harm you because you're going to become our business partners. We're going to cut you boys in on the profits. We're going to give you one of the bars of gold. Then, if you do tell somebody, you'll end up in jail too. Betray us and you get arrested. Keep your mouth shut and wind up rich.”

“We don't want anything that doesn't belong to us,” I said.

“But you will take it. That way we'll buy your silence. If you betray us, we won't be the only ones to suffer. You'll be arrested. You'll be seen as traitors. Do you know what they do with traitors?”

“They shoot them,” I said under my breath.

That slight smile returned to his face and he nodded. “You now have three days to think through a plan and put it into effect.”

“You're going to hold us for three days?” Jack asked.

“Not all of you. Just your mother.”

“Our mother?”

“Yes, she'll be coming with us.”

“You're not taking our mother anywhere!” Jack yelled and jumped to his feet.

Like lightning the two thugs jumped forward, grabbed Jack and slammed him back into his seat again.

The man—the leader—didn't react to either what Jack had done or the way his men had handled it. Instead he pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and put it down on the table.

“Here is a phone number. When you've thought through your plan, you call and my men will come back. In the meantime, and until you return with the gold, your mother will be our guest. It's time to go.”

The man helped our mother to her feet. Her knees buckled and his hold on her arm steadied her.

“What he's saying,” our mother said, “about the camp, about you knowing about it … is it true?”

Jack shook his head. “We can't tell you.”

“I think you just did. I can't believe I didn't know anything about it … that you kept it all from me.”

“We didn't have a choice,” Jack said. “Honestly. We were just trying to protect you.”

Jack slowly rose to his feet. I was surprised that neither of the men at his side stopped him this time. He walked over until he stood right in front of the man.

“If you harm her in any way—in
any way
—I'll kill you.” He said the words quietly, with no anger.

The man didn't react other than to nod his head. “Jack, if any other fourteen-year-old said that I would see it as an idle, meaningless threat.”

“It's more than a threat,” Jack said, “it's a promise.”

“I believe you,” the man said. “And you should believe me. If you do as you're told, then your mother will be returned to you and everybody will become wealthy. If you do your job, your mother will not have a hair on her head harmed. Do we have a deal?” He reached out his hand to Jack like he wanted to shake.

I half expected Jack to spit in his eye or— Jack and the man shook hands!

“Wise. Now for a few details. It is important that nobody gets suspicious about your family's sudden disappearance. One of you has to call your mother's work and then your school to explain that the family is ill. Say it's the measles so nobody will come to the house.”

“We'll make the calls,” Jack said.

“I'm counting on you, Jack … and so is your mother.”

“Remember what I told you,” Jack said.

“I will. And one more thing you should remember. I'm sure you're not thinking about going to the police, but in case you're planning on trying to get help from your friends at Camp X, you have to know that we'll know.”

“You have somebody inside the camp?” I asked.

He smiled. “How do you think we know so much about the place, about the two of you? If you try to contact Bill—who you know you can trust—that doesn't mean that the message won't be intercepted, or that somebody else won't be aware of your conversation. Are you willing to take that risk with your mother's life? Now, we have to leave.”

“Can I just say goodbye to my sons … give them a hug?” my mother asked.

Nobody objected, and the man released her. She walked over and wrapped an arm around each of us and pulled us close. She pressed her face between us.

“Call the police,” she whispered. “Don't worry about what will happen to me.”

I wanted to tell her we wouldn't do that, but I couldn't. I could only answer with silence.

“It's time,” the man said.

Our mother released her grip, but she kept looking into our eyes, as though pleading with us to save ourselves and not worry about her.

“I love you boys.”

“We love you too,” I stammered, and Jack nodded.

The two men led her out of the kitchen. The third—the leader—stood in the doorway to stop us from following.

“Remember, you only have three days …”

He didn't need to finish the sentence for me to know what would happen if we took longer.

He turned and left, and Jack and I bumped into each other as we stumbled after him. We heard the door slam and got to the front window in time to see our mother, and then the men, climb into a waiting car—a car that hadn't been there when we'd arrived. I started for the front door, but Jack grabbed my arm.

“No, it'll just get Mom more upset.”

We watched out the window as the car drove off.

CHAPTER THREE

THE CAR TURNED THE CORNER
, and it was gone. Our mother was gone. I looked over at Jack. He stood there, motionless, no expression on his face, staring out the window.

“Jack?”

He didn't answer. He didn't even turn in my direction or acknowledge that I'd spoken.

“Jack,” I said louder. “What do we do?”

He turned to face me. “We eat.”

“What?” I couldn't believe my ears.

“We eat.” He turned and started for the kitchen.

For a while I just stood there, stunned, not moving. Finally I snapped to and hurried into the kitchen.

“How can you eat?”

“I'm hungry.”

“How can you be hungry at a time like this?” I demanded.

“I was hungry two hours ago, so wouldn't it make sense that I'd be even hungrier now?” he asked as he reached into the cupboard and pulled out a jar of peanut butter.

“But … but … but after everything that happened …”

“I'm still hungry. I have to eat so that I can think. I need my stomach full so my head can be clear.”

He pulled a loaf of bread out of the breadbox and a knife out of the drawer and started to make a sandwich. “You want one?” he asked.

“No, of course I don't …” My stomach was grumbling. “I guess so.”

Jack finished up the first sandwich and then started to slather peanut butter on a second piece of bread. “Get the milk.”

“Oh … sure.” I opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. I set it down on the table and then took two glasses out of the cupboard and filled them both to the top.

Jack brought over the sandwiches and put one on the table in front of me. We both sat down. I took a bite. It tasted good. Much better than a peanut butter sandwich should have tasted. Jack sat across the table from me. He was totally focused, working his way through his sandwich bite by bite, washing it down with the milk. Within thirty seconds the plate was empty and the glass was drained.

“What now?” I asked.

“Do you want another sandwich?”

“No. I want to know what we're going to do.”

“We're going to think things through,” he said. At least he was sounding like a sane person again. “Do
you really think they have somebody inside the camp?”

“Could be. After all, remember what Bill told us about the type of people they train as spies,” I said.

“What do you mean?”

“He said they don't just use soldiers to become spies. They use all sorts of people, people who have all sorts of different and strange skills. Safe-crackers, forgers, pickpockets and criminals of all kinds.”

“That's right,” Jack said. “And if one of those people training to be a spy used to work for those mobsters, then maybe he's passing on information.”

“Who are those guys?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Jack asked.

“Well, criminals, right?”

“Not just any criminals. I figure they're part of the mob, organized criminals, the underworld.”

“Like gangsters?” I asked.

“Yeah, gangsters.”

“At least they're not Nazis.”

“If they were we'd know where they stand. Mobsters are less predictable. I bet they'd even sell out to the Nazis if there was money to be made.”

“Like the gold reserves of the Bank of England?” I asked.

Jack nodded.

“Either way, they must have somebody inside,” I said. “How else would they know everything that they know?”

“I don't know … there could be other ways.”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe they did get their information from inside the camp, but that doesn't mean they
still
have a contact inside.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Think about it. People move in and out of the camp all the time. They come in, get trained and leave.”

“So you think whoever betrayed the information has gone?”

“Maybe. What information did he have about us?”

“He knew that Mom worked at Camp 30, and that we had to move to Bowmanville because of what had happened at Camp X, and he knew where we live,” I said.

“Right, and that's all stuff somebody would know from a while ago. He didn't seem to know anything about the escape from Camp 30 or us being involved in it.”

I hadn't thought about it, but he was right. They hadn't mentioned anything about any of that.

“But the two camps are separate, so why should a person from one place know about the other?” I asked.

“Because they're not separate, they're connected. Remember, the mail for Camp 30 is screened at Camp X. And who do you think was in charge of stopping the escape from Camp 30?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, that's right. I guess there really isn't much that happens around here about the war that doesn't go back to Camp X.”

“Not much, and probably nothing that isn't known by Bill and
especially
by Little Bill.”

“You're right,” I admitted. “But maybe he knew about it but he figured there was no point in talking about it because what happened there doesn't matter. They only wanted to talk about Camp X because that's where the gold is.”

“I don't think so. That guy was trying to impress us with what he knew, and if he knew more he would have said all of it.”

“So … if whoever told them is gone from Camp X, then we could try and contact Bill, right?”

“Right. If we knew for sure.”

“But we can't really know for sure, can we?” I asked.

“No, we can't, and because of that we can't take the risk. We have to assume that their inside guy might still be there, or that if they had one informant they might have a second now, or a third.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I don't know what to think. I just know we can't take a chance with Mom's life. Until we know for sure, we have to act like everybody—except Bill and Little Bill—could be the snitch. We talk to nobody.” He paused. “Nobody but Doris.”

“Doris?” Doris was a secretary who worked with our mother at Camp 30. “Why would we contact Doris? How can she help us?”

“She can help us by telling them at Camp 30 that Mom is sick with the measles and she won't be in for the next few days. I'd better call her now.”

“Why not tomorrow?”

“Because tomorrow we won't be here to call anybody.”

“Why won't we be here?” I didn't know what he was going to say but I was pretty anxious about his answer.

“Because we're leaving tonight.”

“Leaving for where?”

“Camp X.”

CHAPTER FOUR

JACK HAD CALLED DORIS
. She'd not only agreed to tell Colonel Armstrong that Mom was sick, she was also going to call our school and let them know that the two of us would be absent for the next few days. Jack told her that we were being picked up and driven to our grandmother's house in Whitby, and she was going to take care of all three of us until Mom got better. That wasn't quite the truth. Both our grandmothers were dead, we didn't know anybody who lived in Whitby, and nobody was going to be taking care of us or anything else. But we
were
going to Whitby.

“You ready to go?” Jack asked.

“I think so.” I stuffed the box of cereal into my knapsack. “I just don't know why we have to go right now.”

“First off, the sooner we get there the better.”

“But couldn't we at least wait until morning?”

“No, we can't wait until morning because it's light in the morning. We have to get away from here without anybody seeing us. What if somebody—a
teacher, a neighbour, somebody who knows Doris or somebody at Camp 30—sees us riding away on our bikes? Think about what that could lead to.”

I didn't want to think about it. I knew there could be terrible consequences … for us and for Mom. I looked up at the clock. It was just after midnight. Late enough that the streets and then the highway would be almost deserted.

“I have the sleeping bags and tent tied onto the bikes. Just think of this as a little camping trip. Nothing wrong with camping, is there?”

“I guess not.”

“Did you get the flashlights?” Jack asked.

“Oops … forgot.” I ran across the kitchen and pulled them out of the drawer.

He shook his head. “Do you know how much trouble we would have been in without those? It would be almost impossible to pitch the tent in the dark without flashlights.”